


Slowed & Chopped

by sordes



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dry Humping, Felching, M/M, Pining, Praise Kink, Rimming, ass worship, tsundere cor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13562505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sordes/pseuds/sordes
Summary: “C’mon, Marshal, be straight with me. I’ve looked up to you since, well, as far back as I can remember. I didn’t always know I wanted this, wanted to be with you, but I sure fucking know it now.” His voice shifted down a notch. “I’ve known for years.”Cor’s jaw shifted infinitesimally.“And I’m not saying this has to be athing. This can just be here and now, that’s fine.”“I’m an old man, Gladio. I… I don’t know how to dothisanymore.”The one where Gladio realizes the magnitude of his feelings for Cor, then proceeds to show him a very good time. Written for the Day Six Cor Leonis Week prompt "Ships Day."





	Slowed & Chopped

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [AccursedSpatula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/accursedspatula).
> 
> No one asked for a Cor ass worship fic, and yet here I am.
> 
> https://youtu.be/_BPVtw6oRno

Aside from his father, Cor Leonis arguably had had the biggest impact on Gladio’s life. To Gladio, he had been a teacher and friend, an occasional father figure and sometimes stand-in older brother. They were close, to say the least. Gladio had distinct memories of looking up to Cor as a kid, of playing pretend that he was ‘the Immortal’ doing battle with the Blademaster, and as he got older that fascination had fueled his need to face off with Cor on the gym mats and beat him in a sparring match; that competitive streak running hot in him. That fire had cooled with age and given way to an easy camaraderie, different from the kind Gladio enjoyed with others his age. He’d come to find a number of different feelings would bubble up inside when he was around Cor, or when he thought of him even when they were apart, though he didn’t dwell on it too deeply, what with everything going on in his life.

It had taken Gladio nearly twenty years to realize what those feelings really were. They went beyond simple admiration or respect or even hero worship. Cor made him feel powerful and safe all at once. The mere sight of him brought a smile to Gladio’s face. Cor was a near constant presence in his life since the beginning, he was someone he could trust implicitly. They were close friends, student and teacher, but for Gladio it went beyond that. He didn’t know if he could call it ‘love’—if he was ‘in love’ with Cor. But if being around him made him feel all these things, wasn’t that something?

Gladio thought so.

He’d thought long and hard on it.

With the rebuilding after the end of things, there had been no time to pull Cor aside and lay it all out in the open. Cor was busy day and night, a key player in all of the machinations. Gladio supposed he hadn’t tried very hard, either, as he had left Insomnia as soon as it was socially acceptable to do so, and had taken up residence at Cape Caem. He’d never been one for big city life, and his jaunt around Eos a decade ago had just further confirmed that.

The lighthouse held some bad memories for Gladio and it had been a bit rough getting himself used to the quietude at first. But he adapted quickly to his new solitary life, and along the way discovered that he rather enjoyed it. It was hard work between growing his own food, repairing the big house, and minding the lighthouse, but Gladio found it gratifying. Working that hard day in and day out also had the wonderful added benefit of getting him so bone tired that his mind hardly had the time to wander off to his newly realized feelings for the Marshal. But it wasn’t a silver bullet.

When Gladio received a call from Cor nearly a year after his self-imposed exile, he knew he had waited too long. Cor was retiring—actually, really retiring—from public service. He was treating himself to a trip around Eos to commemorate it, a year-long deal to see the world. Though Cor had said he’d prefer just to disappear into the night, as soon as Ignis and Iris got word, they insisted on throwing the Marshal a retirement party, and thus came the call.

Gladio was silent on the line for a time, processing the information. He was glad that Cor could finally take a step back and put his feet up—but a year-long trip? That seemed excessive. Gladio hated to make the trip from Cape Caem to Insomnia, but if Cor were leaving, he’d do it.

A few days later Gladio found himself crammed into the sunshine yellow classic that had been left at the Cape, his knees nearly touching his earlobes. He hated driving in general, especially when there was an absolute scarcity of legroom. Still, he made the long drive, stopping for the night once, his thoughts turned to the Marshal and what he was going to say to him.

Best to just come out with it, he figured. Cor didn’t mince words, he was as straightforward as they came. So it’d be best just to embrace that, to just put it all out there and let that stand for itself.

But as he entered the city and struggled to find parking, doubt settled over him. Cor, after all, was _Cor_. Gladio didn’t think he had a sentimental or romantic bone in his body, he’d never known him to express any interest in the opposite sex, or same sex for that matter. Maybe Cor just didn’t care about those things, he didn’t want them or seek them out. Maybe Gladio was just setting himself up for disappointment, and putting Cor in the path of an awkward conversation he most certainly shouldn’t be forced to have at his retirement party.

Mind and gut at odds, Gladio stilled himself before entering the bar where the party was being held. All the construction was new and refurbished in this district, though the bar was made to look like one of those hole in the wall places you’d find in Duscae, not the Crown City. Still unsure of what he was going to do or say, Gladio knew at the very least seeing Cor after nearly a year apart was bound to improve his mood.

He was right about that.

The bar was packed with familiar faces from the Citadel and Crownsguard alike. Iris practically jumped into Gladio’s arms as he entered, followed shortly behind by Prompto, who delivered a crushing hug around his chest. Ignis was next, moving without difficulty or hesitance even in the crowded bar. As good as it was to see them, the effect they had on his demeanor was nothing in comparison to the change when Gladio next laid his eyes on Cor.

He was caught up in a conversation on the other side of the bar, but everything seemed to slow when he came into view. He looked much the same as he had a year ago—silver hair cropped short, faint stubble on his square jaw and chin. Maybe there were a few more wrinkles here and there, but Gladio didn’t give a damn about those. Rather, there was something about the folds, the crow’s feet, that softened Cor’s demeanor. Still, he stood tall, a good half-head above those around him, and still had that air of cool calm and dignity that Gladio had always known. Though the fact that he was dressed in a white dress shirt and black slacks, as opposed to his uniform, through Gladio for a bit of a loop. Guess he really was a civilian now.

As the sound from the bar and the partiers began to filter back into Gladio’s ears, Gladio let Iris pull him to the bar and accepted the first drink he was handed. He suddenly felt overwhelmed by the crowded space and realized his solitary lifestyle must have been the cause. Everything felt too loud, too cramped, and knowing that the object of his affections was near only intensified the feeling of unease.

Gladio spent the night watching the Marshal from the bar, getting drunker as the night went on. He’d always known Cor to be a taciturn guy, all business and so straight-faced it took a good amount of second-guessing to tell when he was employing sarcasm. But tonight, something about Cor just felt different. He was quick to smile, the laugh lines around his mouth deep in the dim lighting, and Gladio couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that he _had_ laugh lines in the first place. A light flush had settled on Cor’s cheeks, an effect from the liquor and the praise lavished onto him by lifelong friends and comrades. He looked at ease, like he could finally put down the sheer amount of mental fortitude that being _the Marshal_ required and just be Cor Leonis for once. He looked happy.

Gladio watched Cor make the rounds from friend group to friend group, accepting slaps on the back and elbows to the side. He received a good many hugs, and even a few kisses on the cheek, though something snagged in Gladio’s chest after a partygoer had commented on how lovely his sister and Cor looked together after she had kissed him—in another time and place, the marriage wouldn’t have been a bad one. But the comment made Gladio bristle regardless. First, Iris was far too young for Cor, and second… she was the wrong Amicitia for him.

Gladio downed the last of the beer he was nursing and snatched another off of a tray from a passing waitress. He had been working himself up the entire trip to Insomnia and the entire night at the bar to just throw everything out there and come clean about his feelings. He had committed, he had promised himself, he was determined… but now that determination faltered in his gut. Gladio had never seen Cor so carefree in his entire life—he didn’t want to ruin that with talk of his schoolboy crush and the awkwardness of Cor turning him down.

_But what if he feels the same way you do? Wants the same thing you want?_

An unwelcome voice drifted through Gladio’s head and he took a swig from his bottle to shut it up. Cor was married to his duty, completely devoted. He had never expressed any inklings toward Gladio, or anyone else for that matter. It wasn’t possible.

Still.

Gladio’s lips left the lip of the bottle slowly, his eyes finding Cor in the crowd once more. Cor’s eyes flitted from one face to another, then as if drawn to him, settled on Gladio from across the room. And then Cor smiled. It wasn’t a big, toothy grin, it wasn’t suggestive. It was small and tentative, even. And it was made only for Gladio. Unconsciously, Gladio’s tongue slipped out and wetted his lower lip. It was now or never, it seemed.

Cor sighed loudly when he settled onto the stool next to Gladio. It had taken him ten minutes to make his way over, unable to turn away a well-wisher or stopping to chat briefly before a partygoer left. The crowd was dwindling down now and the host was finally able to take a load off. Up close Gladio could see how tired he was underneath the pleasant smiles; in truth he probably would have preferred to skip the retirement party all together, but he was unable to cast off his last duty, it seemed.

Gladio leaned forward and plucked a bottle of whisky from the other side of the bar and set it between them. “You look like you could use a drink,” Gladio spoke deliberately so as not to slur any of his words as he plucked a fresh glass for Cor from the other side of the bar.

“Throat’s a bit dry,” Cor said as he unscrewed the bottle and poured two fingers worth of whisky into his fresh glass and a splash into the used shot glass Gladio offered. Cor raised an eyebrow as he set the bottle down. “You get enough to drink?”

Gladio almost choked on his whisky as he threw his head back to down it. “Well,” he managed between coughs, “there’s no liquor store near the Cape, so I gotta stock up.”

Cor gratified that with a laugh and the sound of it made Gladio’s ears go hot. “Trust the trip over was uneventful.” He offered to refill Gladio’s glass.

“Almost makes me miss the old days—but not really.” Gladio downed his shot in one go, hissing at the burn in his throat.

They chatted comfortably for a time, the majority of the stragglers leaving in the meantime and only interrupting for a quick hug or a wave. It was strange in some way, to talk to Cor about the future and the conversation not centered on the rebuilding efforts or the reestablishment of law and order. Cor was curious about Gladio’s life in Cape Caem, asking question after question about the lighthouse and its upkeep. Gladio glowed under his interest, finally the center of his attention after a night of drinking largely alone.

Gladio felt the tension easing out of his shoulders over the course of their conversation, the pit in his stomach leveling out until it was all but gone. Just being with Cor was easy, he didn’t have to put on airs around him, and despite Gladio having left the Crownsguard, issues of rank of decorum never once crossed Gladio’s mind.

As time went on their conversation waned, but Gladio, not wanting to let things end, decided to shift focus.

“So tell me about the world tour, Marshal, though I bet you’re sick of talking about it by now,” Gladio chuckled.

Cor returned a wry smile. “Seems I’ve got that speech just about memorized at this point. I’ll give you the short version. First stop is Galdin Quay for a couple days, then I’ll take the ferry to Altissia, and from there...” He shrugged. “Not one for making a concrete itinerary.”

Gladio feigned shock. “The Marshal’s not planning his trip out hour by hour? You going soft in the head in addition to soft in the gut?” Gladio made to poke Cor’s stomach but was intercepted easily.

“After a lifetime of schedule and routine, I’m looking forward to just…” He shrugged. “Think I’ve earned it,” he added with a grin.

_He was right about that._

Gladio took a sharp breath in through his nose. This was his moment, no more second-guessing, no more doubting. _Just go for it, just get it over with—_

Gladio felt Ignis’ hand on his shoulder before he could capitalize on his regained courage. Gladio swung around and realized that it was just them and a few of the staff in the bar, everyone else having left long ago.

“The Marshal has an early start tomorrow, Gladio. We should let him get his rest.”

“Ah, yeah,” Gladio’s head began to spin. He’d spent all that time just chatting, but he didn’t actually get around to the confessing.

Cor slid off of his stool. “Glad you could make it, Gladio.” Throwing a nod, Cor added a quick, “Ignis.”

Ignis nodded. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Congratulations, again, on your retirement.” Ignis gave Gladio’s shoulder a slight squeeze. “The car will be here shortly.”

Gladio’s mouth flapped open and shut at Ignis. He couldn’t be out of time, he had just psyched himself up enough to launch into it and—it felt like some huge cosmic joke, his golden opportunity, _twenty years in the making_ , the last he’d have for at least another year, was slipping through his fingers.

“Wait,” Gladio’s elbow knocked into the bar as he slid to his feet, jostling the empty bottles and glasses.

Cor scrambled to steady the tottering glasses, then braced Gladio’s shoulder. “Whoa there.”

Ignis found Gladio’s other shoulder and helped keep him upright. “How much did you have to drink, Gladio?”

Gladio frowned, trying to count them all. “A few…”

“Right, well, I should have kept an eye on you, but.”

Cor let out a bark of a laugh, startling both Gladio and Ignis. “Clearly you’ve had a couple yourself, too, Ignis. C’mon, Gladio, stand up.”

Gladio’s face went hot from the unwanted attention. He tried to find his footing, but his inebriation partnered with standing up so quickly made his head go woozy and the room seemed to spin.

“Come on, Gladio,” Ignis grunted as he wrapped an arm around Gladio’s shoulder and took on some of his weight. “Time to sleep it off.”

Cor frowned, took on more of Gladio’s weight from the other side. “Don’t want him puking at your place. It’s fine, I got him.”

“Yes, but you’re leaving tomorrow morning…”

Gladio wasn’t in his right enough mind to inject himself in the exchange, but the urge to elbow Ignis in the gut to make him drop the thread was strong.

“I’ll kick his ass out, then. It’s fine.”

Infuriatingly, Ignis didn’t seem to want to take the out.

“Are you really sure, Marshal? I’d hate to put you out of sorts for the night.”

“Yeah,” Cor took the full heft of Gladio’s weight from Ignis and held him tight to his side to keep him upright. “It’s no bother, really.”

Gladio practically let out a sigh of relief.

“And besides,” Gladio couldn’t help but note the levity in Cor’s voice, “think I’d be better at holding back his hair when he inevitably pukes.”

Ignis moved past the two, patting Cor’s bicep as he passed him. “Don’t feel obligated to do so, Marshal, a little tough love would do him a world of good.”

Even Gladio couldn’t help but chuckle at that. At this point, he’d take any kind of love from the Marshal that he could get.

\---

They made the quick walk to Cor’s apartment from the bar, their breath coming out in white puffs against the chilly night air. Though Gladio found he was steadier on his feet outside than he was inside the bar, he pretended to be wobblier than he was to keep Cor’s arm tightly pressed around his side. They were silent during the walk and moved at a brisk pace, arriving at the grey brick building in what felt, to Gladio, like an unfairly short amount of time.

Gladio watched Cor from the corner of his eye during the elevator ride up to his floor, noting how he stretched his back and rolled his neck. He was probably tired from the socializing and would want to head to bed straight away. Gladio knew he wouldn’t have much time to make his move.

“Think you can use the shower and manage not fall and hit your head?”

Gladio swallowed hard as he entered Cor’s apartment, though not entirely at his words. He’d only been there once before, right when Cor had moved in and everything was still boxed up and the smell of fresh paint followed him into every room. Though nothing had found its proper place yet, the space had already felt like it belonged to Cor, that it was his. Now it just seemed empty and a little sad.

Cor wasn’t giving up his lease or anything, but with the long trip ahead of him all of his furniture was covered by white sheets, and his personal effects were packed up to avoid the dust. Gladio recalled servants giving one of the great estates he’d visited one summer as a boy the same treatment, and he shivered, remembering the unease he felt at the sight, finding the whole practice rather eerie and sad.

“Gladio?”

Cor was standing on the threshold between the living room and the kitchen. Gladio blinked, realizing he had just been staring, and cleared his throat. “What was that? Sorry.”

“Do you think you can take a shower and not kill yourself? Need some water?”

“Ah, yeah, to both. Thanks.”

Cor nodded and grabbed two glasses from one of the cabinets and filled them with water from the tap. “Think I have some aspirin in the bathroom for your inevitable hangover,” Cor said as he handed Gladio his glass.

“Thanks,” Gladio took a small sip. “Sorry to impose,” he added somewhat belatedly.

Cor shrugged. “Bathroom’s off the bedroom. Should be towels in there.”

Gladio turned his head in the direction of the bedroom, his stomach suddenly doing backflips. He knew he shouldn’t read into it, but he couldn’t help the heat rising up his neck. “I’ll be quick.”

“I’ll wait for the _thump_ and come running. You drowning in the tub isn’t the way I want to kick off my retirement.”

“I’ll do my best not to die, Marshal.” Gladio threw him a mock salute and swiveled around for the bedroom, hoping the hammering of his heartbeat was only audible to him and cursing himself for falling into step with the natural rhythm of the night winding down.

“If you need something to sleep in, check the top drawer of the dresser. Pick what you want,” Cor hollered after him.

Gladio nearly tripped at his words, but slipped around the corner and out of sight, into Cor’s bedroom.

Gladio had heard somewhere that a person’s bedroom was a reflection of their personality. It reflected their interests, revealed their neuroses and quirks, and in general, could shed a good amount of light on the person in question. Gladio wondered what whoever had come up with that idea would think of Cor after seeing his room.

It was the textbook definition of ‘spartan’ and ‘austere’—lacking both any kind of personal effect and any sign of clutter or mess. Gladio wondered if Cor had just cleaned everything up on account of his trip, or if it was always like this. He leaned toward the latter reasoning, which tugged something in his chest. Gladio made the mental comparison of Cor’s empty space to his own cluttered bedroom in the big house at Cape Caem. There was one thing shared across both rooms: the perfect hospital corners on the beds. Some habits died hard.

Gladio pulled open the top drawer of the dark stained dresser, revealing a number of neatly folded shirts and sweatpants. They were clearly well worn and old, not items Cor was taking with him on his journey. Gladio took a moment just to run his hands over the fabric, wondering how often Cor had worn them.

Gladio ultimately picked out a pair of dark grey sweatpants and an obnoxiously bright yellow commemorative Moogle Chocobo Carnival t-shirt, though he highly doubted Cor had gotten the shirt from the carnival himself. He couldn’t picture Cor wearing something so garish, but imagining him in it gave him a good laugh nonetheless.

Gladio next flicked on the light in the ensuite bathroom, illuminating the small room. Like the bedroom it was freakishly clean, the porcelain toilet glistening. Even the layout was efficient, no wasted space or unreachable corners to be found. After shutting the door behind him, Gladio pulled off his clothing, piece by piece, and, feeling pressured by the sheer level of order, folded up each item and placed it on top of the closed toilet lid. Reverently, even, he then placed Cor’s borrowed clothes on top of the stack.

It was only as Gladio turned the knob in the shower and hot water emerged from the showerhead that he seemed to feel self-conscious about the whole setup. This felt like something straight out of one of many tawdry novels he’d read over the years. All he needed was for Cor to impose himself mid-way through his shower and the trope would be complete. Fat chance of that happening, though, Gladio thought as he stepped over the side of the tub and into the hot spray.

Gladio made quick work of cleaning himself up, not wanting to use up all the hot water. He slid the white and odorless bar of soap across his skin, and while the temptation to jerk himself off here in Cor’s shower was strong, he resisted. It just didn’t feel right. Gladio cut off the flow of water after washing off the suds and quickly shampooing his hair, the soft scent of mint filling the hazy little bathroom.

Gladio dried himself with a white bath towel from the rack before stepping out onto the chilly tile. Towel draped over his damp hair, Gladio took a moment just to hold Cor’s shirt. He probably hadn’t worn it but once or twice, something he picked up second hand. Gladio brought the shirt up to his nose and breathed in. It smelled mostly like the drawer it had come from, vaguely woody, but there was a hint of the Marshal there. Gladio tugged the towel off his head and pulled the shirt on over his head. The sight of the cheery Moogle and Chocobo posing back to back on his shirt in the mirror made him grin.

Gladio quickly slipped on the sweatpants one leg at a time, not bothering with his old pair of briefs. Though the thought that he was ‘dirtying’ Cor’s pants did cross his mind, he reasoned he had just showered and was perfectly clean. He was going to offer to launder the borrowed items, anyway, so it shouldn’t matter.

He returned the used towel to the rack to let it dry and gathered his old clothes up in his arms. Gladio gave his hair a once over in the mirror quick, pushed a few damp strands one way or the other, then opened the door and exited, moving from the cool tile to the plush carpet in Cor’s bedroom.

Gladio stopped dead in his tracks when he saw that Cor was sitting on the bed, his back up against the headboard and his legs stretched out before him. He had a pair of dark rimmed reading glasses on and was looking over a thin report—despite it being some ungodly hour after his own retirement party had concluded. Cor’s ears perked up at the sound of the door opening and he looked up to Gladio.

“Didn’t use up all the hot water, I think.”

“And you didn’t slip and fall. Interesting choice,” Cor indicated to Gladio’s borrowed shirt with a slight nod.

Gladio knew his face was warm, but hoped the shower and the liquor would excuse it. “It’s a bit snug.” Gladio flapped his arms for emphasis, the sleeves tight on his biceps.

“You’ll live,” Cor said as he raised the report in his hand to continue reading, then stopped, lowering it again. “The bed’s yours. I got the couch tonight.”

“The couch is fine,” Gladio protested.

“You’re liable to fall off the couch in the night and hit your head. Trust me. Don’t worry about it.” Cor made to get up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

Gladio’s throat was tight and his palms were starting to sweat, but he knew this truly was his last chance to talk things over with him. He couldn’t afford to keep putting it off. “You can stay. You’re in the middle of something, aren’t you? I don’t mind.” Cor paused and Gladio set his clothes down on the foot of the bed. “I’m already putting you out, so really, go ahead.” Gladio searched Cor’s face for a counter to his offer, but found none.

Cor cleared his throat and scooched over a touch to the other side of the bed, making room for Gladio. “I’m almost through.”

“That’s fine. Take all the time you need.” Gladio eased himself onto the bed, taking care not to mess up the top quilt too much, though really, what did it matter? Gladio wasn’t sure if he should sit up, like Cor, or if he should lie down. He opted for the latter, as he didn’t have any reading material to keep him occupied, and folded his hands across his stomach.

They were silent for a time, Gladio just watching Cor’s eyes skim the page and twiddling his thumbs, as he tried to figure out how to start things off. The last thing he anticipated was having this conversation in bed with Cor, so he had to course correct some. Or a lot.

“They still got you running the free world?”

Cor glanced down at him and shrugged. “Just tying up some loose ends.”

“And after the retirement party, no less. I’ll have to have a word with HR.”

Cor cracked a small smile. “You do that for me.”

Cor’s eyes flicked back to his report and Gladio pressed his lips into a tense line. He was getting nowhere fast.

“I can get a garbage can if you think you’re gonna puke in the night,” Cor said a short time later, eyes still trained on his work. 

Gladio looked up at Cor, brows pushed together. He was feeling mostly fine now, a little buzzed still, but certainly not enough to have to puke. He opened his mouth to reply, but shut it as he realized nothing he could say was going to matter—he had been approaching this the wrong way all this time. Cor appreciated things that were direct and straight to the point. What better way to be direct than with action?

Gladio rolled onto his side and pushed himself up onto his knees. “Not gonna puke.”

The look Cor gave him wrenched something in Gladio’s gut. It was indecipherable as stone, completely neutral. Part of Gladio just wanted to shake him, to knock free that cryptic mask, to shout and question how he could act so collected despite the awkwardness of the evening. Mind made up, Gladio crawled closer to Cor and swung his left leg over Cor’s right so he was straddling it. They were so close, close enough for Cor to smell the beer still clinging to Gladio’s breath.

“Can I help you?” Cor asked, thoroughly nonplussed.

Gladio inhaled sharply and looked defiantly back at him. He was breathing in Cor’s scent, a bit of smoky from the bar, the faint scent of mint from his shampoo undercutting it all, and parted his lips to say a few of the words he had been trying to say the entire evening. “I’m gonna miss you, y’know.”

Cor patted Gladio’s back with his right hand, report still in his grasp. “You’re drunk, Gladio.”

“I’m not,” Gladio pressed.

“You are. But thanks for the sentiment, anyway.”

Gladio sighed through his nose. “Marshal.”

Cor hummed in acknowledgement, his attentions already turned back to his report.

“You know I like you. Right?”

“I never would have guessed,” he said without missing a beat.

“I mean, more than just….” Gladio struggled to find the words. “I really, _really_ like you.”

“I like you, too, Gladio.”

He was completely unfazed. Gladio sputtered, the wheels in his head spinning faster than they had any right to be at this time of night, his heart hammering in his ears. “That’s it?”

Cor finally looked to Gladio and just blinked. “Yes?”

Gladio set his jaw. “Do you want me to go?”

Cor blinked again then shrugged noncommittally, the subtext of Gladio’s admission clearly going way, _way_ over his head. “Do what you want. As long as that doesn’t include getting in your car.”

Ever indecipherable—this quality made Cor a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, but in times like this, Gladio found his aloofness frustrating to no end.

Gladio leaned back into Cor to mask his displeasure, comfortably slotting his cheek in the crook of Cor’s neck. Gladio closed his eyes, content just to rest there in silence as Cor was content to keep working. The room was quiet, save the occasional sound of Cor flipping the page of his report and their slow, steady breathing. Cor would occasionally shift subtly beneath Gladio, rolling his ankles or adjusting his legs, and dimly Gladio thought he must be heavy, though Cor didn’t utter a word of complaint.

Cor’s leg shifted beneath Gladio’s hips—Gladio was probably cutting off his circulation—and his warm, solid thigh rubbed against Gladio’s groin. The contact was like some cosmic joke only adding insult to injury. Not only did Cor completely miss Gladio’s admission, now he was making him hard.

Gladio tried to keep himself still, but now that the fire had been kindled in his belly, it proved to be impossible. He adjusted himself subtly, but the jostling only served to further stimulate his slowly hardening cock.

Logically, Gladio knew this was a bad idea. At the best he was inviting his own shame and embarrassment, and at the worst he was violating the sanctity of their relationship. But maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the letdown after days of agonizing about things—maybe it was just the easy silence that seemed to follow the Marshal. Everything seemed to blanket Gladio’s mind and numb his ability to care; the only thing that seemed to matter was Cor’s warmth and solidness and his own hardness.

He rolled his hips down slightly into Cor’s thigh, and in response Cor cleared his throat slightly. It wasn’t loud enough to feel like a warning, but it made Gladio’s heart take off like a jackhammer anyway. The words _this is wrong, wrong, wrong_ echoing in his ears clashed with the single throbbing notion that _it feels so good_. Gladio tried to keep his movements subtle, seemingly unintentional, but before long he had run out of self-control.

Gladio couldn’t help himself any longer. It was obvious he was hard but Cor hadn’t pushed him off. Maybe the Marshal was just pretending not to notice, to save Gladio the embarrassment, or maybe he just didn’t care. Gladio didn’t care to puzzle things over, he just wanted to relieve an ounce of the pressure that had been steadily building up since this whole evening began… and so Gladio began to rut.

He moved slowly at first, a last ditch effort to be subtle about it, but that didn’t last long. Gladio squeezed his eyes shut so tight stars flashed before his eyelids. The friction of his sweats and Cor’s solid thigh felt amazing. Shortly enough Gladio was moving at full tilt, chasing that release, consequences be damned.

“What are you doing, Gladio?”

Cor’s voice was a low rumble, his breath warm on Gladio’s cheek. Gladio froze. It was obvious what he was doing, but now that he had been called out on it, a million thoughts streamed through his head and Gladio was incapable of stringing one coherent word to the next.

Hesitantly, Gladio opened one eye, then the other, and found Cor looking at him dead on. He didn’t appear angry or upset; his face was again infuriatingly neutral. Cor had a poker face to end all poker faces.

Gladio swallowed and quickly considered his options. He could laugh it off, excuse himself and leave; Cor was giving him that out. But after everything, did Gladio really just want to leave things like that? No, the answer was clearly no. Might as well lay all his cards out on the table.

“What does it look like?”

Something flashed in Cor’s steely eyes and Gladio knew there was more to Cor’s questioning than simply giving Gladio plausible deniability of his actions. There was interest there, curiosity.

Gladio carried on rutting his hips against Cor’s thigh, only now he kept his eyes locked on Cor’s. His mouth hung open and he felt the steady creep of heat working its way up his neck and face. The seat of his sweatpants was unbearably tight, but he grinded into them and Cor’s stationary thigh with wild abandon, pleasure pooling in his stomach.

Cor held Gladio’s gaze for what felt like an eternity, but then all of the sudden something shifted in those eyes, something infinitesimally small but not unnoticed. Cor’s eyes flicked down to the report he’d been reading before, dropped to the bed at some point. One of Cor’s hands was balled into a fist, the other out of sight but certainly not clinging to or pushing Gladio away. The idea that Cor might sock him good in the jaw passed through Gladio’s mind and he welcomed it—any reaction was better than none.

Gladio’s eyes roved back to Cor’s face and everything came together, the shock of it nearly unseating him.

The Immortal was blushing.

Sure, Gladio had seen Cor go red in the face from physical exertion or from yelling at him, he’d seen him gaunt and haggard, but seeing him _blush_?

“Marshal…” The epithet slipped out from Gladio’s lips before he could stop it. Much to his delight, it just made the pink flush turn a shade darker. If it were possible for his cock to get even harder, it did, right then and there. Now, Gladio was filled with the desire not only to get himself off, but to see what else made Cor’s face and ears turn red.

“Fuck, Marshal, you ever let anyone else do this? Or am I the first?” Gladio didn’t know what the hell he was asking, but he silently prayed that he was indeed the first and only. Cor grunted in response, eyes glued to his report.

“Hurry up already.” Cor’s voice was thick in his throat, but he didn’t stutter or mumble. The command triggered something in Gladio and he let out an embarrassingly loud moan. Well, embarrassing for Cor maybe—Gladio was too far-gone past the point of caring to be bothered by it now.

It only took a few harried ruts later for Gladio to come, spilling himself in his pants. He continued to grind himself into Cor as the pleasure shot through his legs and up his back, his balls twitching and his mouth slack. Through it all Gladio kept his eyes locked on Cor’s face, studying his expression for any shift or change. To his chagrin, Cor kept that poker face on perfectly, his ruddy cheeks the only thing belying his cool façade.

Gladio brought his hips to a standstill. He could feel the front of his sweats was soaked. It felt like he came quite a bit, so it wouldn’t have surprised him if some of the wetness had made its way on to Cor’s thigh, though he was unable to tell because of the dark fabric. As the haze of orgasm cleared Gladio’s mind, Gladio tried to think of what to do next.

One: leave (apologizing later via text would probably be best).

Two: keep pushing his luck.

Gladio’s hand was over Cor’s groin and _fucking thank the Six_ , found that he was hard. Cor startled at the contact and finally looked back at Gladio. His mouth was drawn into a tight line, eyes steely but undercut with a hint of what Gladio could only describe as pleading.

“Marshal…” Gladio palmed Cor’s dick through the seat of his trousers. There was absolutely no point in doing things halfheartedly now. “It’s okay, let me do this for you.” There was an edge of pleading in Gladio’s voice now, too. He wanted to get Cor off, he wanted to strip away the weight years of duty and self-sacrifice had piled upon his shoulders, and ease the creases out of his brow one at a time.

“Gladiolus, this isn’t wise.”

Gladio removed some of the pressure from Cor’s crotch. “Look, if you want me to stop, I will. But, I want to do this, and I think you want me to, too, so…” His voice trailed off as he gave Cor’s dick a good squeeze. “Please?”

“This is all just so,” Cor paused, trying to find the word. “ _Sudden_.”

“So that’s a ‘no,’ then?”

“I didn’t say that,” Cor followed with quickly.

Gladio pulled his hand back from Cor’s groin. “Is it because I’m me? Is it weird for you?”

Cor frowned. “No, it’s… it’s just been a while.”

“No shame in that.”

“Astrals, help us.”

“C’mon, Marshal, be straight with me. I’ve looked up to you since, well, as far back as I can remember. I didn’t always know I wanted this, wanted to be with you, but I sure fucking know it now.” His voice shifted down a notch. “I’ve known for years.”

Cor’s jaw shifted infinitesimally.

“And I’m not saying this has to be _a thing_. This can just be here and now, that’s fine.”

“I’m an old man, Gladio. I… I don’t know how to do _this_ anymore.”

“Marshal, you’re—you have no idea how little I care about both of those things. Seriously.”

Cor groaned, no longer capable of keeping the annoyance out of his voice. “I’ve never been with a man before, let alone a former charge.”

Gladio blinked. “Oh.” He recovered quickly enough, though. “It’s no different than being with a woman, honestly. And that’s just like riding a bike. You don’t really forget how to do it.”

“This is a lot to process,” he grunted.

Gladio nodded. “You can say ‘no.’ I want to make it clear that I’m not just looking for a quick fuck, by the way.”

Cor’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. Had Gladio’s words really thrown him for that much of a loop?

Gladio let out a shaky laugh. “I keep giving you outs, and you keeping refusing to take them. All I need to hear is a ‘yes’ and I’m there.”

“A man of my generation—what you’re asking is impossible.”

And then it clicked together. It was like Gladio had unearthed the final puzzle piece, smashed between the couch cushions, and could finally slot it in its proper place, completing the picture.

“Astrals, Marshal, okay, you don’t have to sing it from the mountain tops, I get it.” Gladio couldn’t help but laugh now; not at Cor, but at the whole situation. “Just tear the bandaid off, I’m not asking for a sonnet here. Yes or no?”

Cor set his jaw. It felt like an eternity had passed between them, so close yet so far from what Gladio wanted. Yet all he could do was wait for Cor’s answer.

Finally, Cor wetted his bottom lip then ground out the word Gladio had been waiting to hear: “yes.”

Gladio tore open Cor’s belt with both hands and yanked down his fly, desperate to get everything in the way gone. He pulled Cor’s cock out from his briefs and felt a spark in his own softening dick. While he’d gotten a glimpse here or there of Cor’s dick in the past from the occasional shared shower or cold stream bath, he’d never been close enough to actually take in the finer details.

Gladio felt Cor shudder underneath him as he took his cock into his hand. Gladio wasted little time and gave it a firm stroke from root to tip. His tongue slipped between his lips as he took in the sight below him, the tip of Cor’s cock already red and shiny from the accumulation of precome, the heat and feeling of his shaft becoming fully hard in his hand. Gladio worked his wrist as he pumped Cor’s cock, his ears perking at Cor’s every groan. He could tell the Marshal was trying his best to smother any sounds in his throat; it just made Gladio want to make him scream.

Gladio leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Cor’s cheek, then blew a hot puff of air into the shell of his ear. “I really wish I’d asked you to do this sooner.”

Cor didn’t skip a beat. “I likely would have turned you down. It would have been inappropriate. Given our relationship.”

Gladio nuzzled his cheek against Cor’s and chuckled into his close cropped hair. “Yeah, well, I ain’t a kid anymore.”

Cor’s voice caught in his throat as Gladio’s fingers ghosted over the tip of his cock. “Clearly.”

Gladio left another kiss on his cheek, plucked off Cor’s reading glasses with his free hand and set them on the far side of the bed behind them.

Gladio normally liked to take his time with a new partner. To go slow, feel them out, discover their body and all the little quirks and secrets it held. But right now, that felt impossible. The raw heat of Cor in his hand, the little breaths and gasps escaping Cor’s mouth, they were gasoline feeding the fire in Gladio’s stomach and all he could think about was how quick he could get the Marshal out of his pants.

Gladio gave Cor’s dick a couple additional firm strokes then let go, his attentions turned to disrobing Cor as he moved off his thigh. Cor looked dazed for a moment after Gladio let go of him, then seemed to get the hint, raising his hips so Gladio could yank down his pants and practically tear them off his long legs. Cor’s hands set to undoing the buttons up the front of his dress shirt and Gladio left him to it—he had a feeling his fingers would be too clumsy to help, now that Cor’s cock was completely out in the open.

Gladio felt nearly drunk on the desire to lay down between his lean thighs and just suck until Cor was bone dry, but _fuck_ if he didn’t come up with a better idea in that instant instead.

“Turn over.” Gladio’s voice so was gruff with lust he almost didn’t recognize it.

Cor had just gotten the last button undone, a slice of his lean stomach visible between the two pieces of fabric. Gladio’s eyes roved over his chest—again something he’d seen before, but never in this context. His core was tense, uneasy.

“Gladiolus…”

Gladio’s eyes flicked up to Cor’s. Though he was erect, hesitation was playing across his grizzled features. Gladio softened a hair; this wasn’t easy for Cor. Gladio had never known him to have a girlfriend, who knows if he ever had any other arrangements. He exhaled deeply to calm himself down. He needed to be patient.

“It’ll feel good, I swear.”

Cor didn’t seem convinced.

Gladio nudged open Cor’s legs with his thigh and situated himself between them. “Trust me.”

Cor braced himself, likely anticipating Gladio to grab his cock again, but Gladio was happy to keep the Marshal on his toes. Gladio leaned in and kissed Cor’s cheek. It was soft and chaste, entirely tame. He held the kiss for a few seconds, Cor remaining perfectly still, then pulled back. “Trust me,” Gladio urged again.

To Cor’s credit, he held Gladio’s gaze steady. Cor took Gladio’s jaw into his hand and, though his fingers trembled slightly, he pressed their lips together.

Gladio’s stomach did a somersault and he could feel his ears grow hot. He wanted to laugh at how unnerving it was—Cor didn’t seem to believe in closing his eyes when he kissed; his eyes were steely, challenging, even. But Gladio didn’t laugh, both out of a fear of scaring Cor off and because this is what he was really waiting for: reciprocation.

Cor drew back from the tame kiss and cleared his throat. “I trust you.”

Gladio couldn’t help but grin. He leaned in quick and pecked another kiss to the corner of Cor’s mouth. “Good. Now turn over.”

Cor sighed through his nose and Gladio backed off, giving him the space to move. Cor sat up from the headboard and turned himself around. Gladio moved himself forward on his knees and helped position Cor, guiding him with his hands on his hips. Cor resisted Gladio’s attempt to lower him onto his hands and knees slightly, but relented as Gladio’s hands trailed up and down his chest and stomach.

When Cor was finally in position, Gladio sat back on his heels and took a moment to admire the view. The tails of his shirt were tantalizingly covering the top of his ass and his cock hung heavy between his spread thighs. Cor craned his neck around his shoulder, his ears bright red.

“Now what?”

Gladio’s tongue slipped out from between his lips and he pushed up the tails of Cor’s shirt, exposing his asshole. Cor shuddered at the sudden exposure. “Now you just let me work.”

A palm on either of Cor’s cheeks, Gladio spread them wide giving him unfettered access. Cor squirmed beneath him, a grunt of a protest hitting Gladio’s ears. Gladio could hardly process it, though, his heart hammering in his ears and Cor’s ass, puckered tightly in resistance, before his eyes.

“So fuckin’ beautiful.” Gladio leaned in and planted a wet kiss on Cor’s left cheek, arresting a choked groan from Cor’s throat. Gladio raked his teeth across the left mound to the right, nipped at his tender skin.

Gladio pressed his lips over his previous spot and sucked hard, ensuring he’d leave a mark. When he pulled back Gladio was sure he caught sight of Cor’s cock twitch between his legs, swollen and hard, his testes drawn in close to his body. _Fuck, if this wasn’t a sight worth waiting for._

Holding his cheeks open wide, palms already a tad slippery with sweat, the tip of Gladio’s tongue emerged from his lips. “Now let’s see what other sounds you can make for me, Marshal.”

Gladio brought the tip of his tongue to Cor’s ass and swirled it around the tight ring of muscle. Cor immediately seized up at the unfamiliar sensation. Gladio worked him with steady, persistent licks until Cor was practically sobbing into the pillow, his arms haven given out underneath him, cock leaking onto the sheets. Satisfied, Gladio switched tactics, flattened his tongue and proceeded to lap it over Cor’s asshole. Gladio had to move his hands to Cor’s thighs to hold him in place, as he was simultaneously trying to flee from the sensation and press into it.

Gladio gave his asshole a few more good, slow licks with the flat of his tongue, then returned to his previous tactic, probing the sensitive area with the tip of his tongue until he found the spot that made Cor writhe and groan the most. Gladio just worked that spot over and over until Cor was a shambling mess beneath him, knees slipped wide apart and tangled in the sheets, face pressed deep into the pillow.

“Gladio, please—”

Those two words, slurred and breathy, were like a choir of angels to Gladio.

“Please, what?” The hot puffs of Gladio’s breath made Cor’s asshole pucker beautifully.

Cor whined as he jutted his ass back, nearly nudging Gladio’s nose. “Enough with the games.”

Gladio chuckled as he pressed down on the small of Cor’s back, pressing him further down into the mattress, ass raised and completely exposed. Cor’s dripping cock now pinned between his stomach and the bed, he was finally allowed an ounce of the friction he had no doubt been craving, and rocked his hips down, chasing it. Gladio spread his cheeks once more, quelling Cor’s rutting, and everything seemed to freeze in anticipation of Gladio’s next move.

“ _I’ve_ been waiting for this for twenty years. You can wait a little bit longer.”

Gladio returned the tip of his tongue to the tight coil of muscle and pushed in, wrenching a hiccupped gasp from Cor. Despite relaxing his hole with patient and attentive licks, Cor was tight, resisting the penetration. Gladio kneaded his cheeks, encouraging Cor to let him in. Gladio drew back slightly, kissed the tender skin around his asshole.

“Relax, Marshal—you’re so hot when you let me take you apart.”

Cor grumbled into the pillow but Gladio didn’t miss the way his hole fluttered at the praise. Not one to let the opportunity slide by, Gladio drove his tongue into Cor’s ass, bypassing the resistance of the outer ring of muscle and finally reaching inside.

The sound Cor made was half sob, half yelp, and only served to encourage Gladio’s probing. He wriggled his tongue slightly, as much as the snug confines would allow. Cor was already tightening around him, however. This would call for something sturdier.

Gladio pressed a fingertip into Cor’s hole, just under his tongue. As Gladio pulled his tongue back he pushed his finger in and Cor squirmed at the solid intrusion. “Think you can take a bit more?” Cor’s response was muffled in the bedding, and after that, watching his ass practically suck in his finger, Gladio’s next words were a jumbled mess of adulation and prayer.

Gladio fucked him slowly, the gentle repetition of in, and out; in, and out. He was all heat, slick with Gladio’s saliva and sweat, stretching around Gladio. Sensing that Cor was ready for more, Gladio brought a second fingertip to his loosened hole and pressed.

Cor arched his back and rocked his hips forward, pressing himself down further onto Gladio’s two digits and attempting to run from them all at once. His balls looked impossibly tight, even painful, drawn against his body, and although Gladio couldn’t see it, he had no doubt Cor’s cock was red, angry, and weeping freely trapped beneath him, dirtying the sheets and his stomach. Gladio was dying to see Cor’s expression as it was frustratingly obscured from view, but he did have the gratification of Cor’s appreciative groans.

As Cor’s ass swallowed his fingers down to the second knuckle, Gladio considered his own cock, straining against his sweatpants. He felt harder than he’d ever been before, fully recovered from his previous misadventure. Gladio thought that Cor was almost ready, and certainly eager for more, from the way he was pushing himself down, practically racing to Gladio’s third knuckle.

“Astrals, you’re so good. You’re fucking beautiful.”

Gladio would have laughed at the way Cor twisted at the praise if he wasn’t so intent on tearing Cor apart _just_ a bit more before he fucked him in earnest. Gladio let Cor fuck himself on his fingers for a few more slow strokes then, as Cor reached the base of his knuckles, Gladio pressed down against his prostate and rubbed.

Gladio’s cock ached at the way Cor jolted from the contact. He could feel Cor’s thighs slacken and he dipped slightly deeper into the mattress (if it were at all possible), completely at Gladio’s mercy. It was exhilarating and Gladio couldn’t wait to make Cor come to pieces when his cock replaced his fingers. Gladio prodded his fingers into Cor’s prostate, shallowly fucking him in, and out, in, and out. Cor’s shoulders shuddered and his balls twitched, a steady stream of muffled _fucks_ and groans spilling out from Cor’s lips.

Gladio couldn’t help himself any longer. He dropped his free hand from Cor’s ass and, though he was shaking from adrenaline and arousal, Gladio reached into his sweatpants and took his cock into hand. Gladio gave himself a few good strokes, already rock hard, and worked the accumulated beads of precome down his shaft.

Gladio was so focused on his hands—one working himself in quick, tight strokes and the other moving in and out of Cor’s ass—that he hardly noticed Cor pushing himself up back onto all fours. “Hurry up and get the show on the road,” he demanded simply.

Somehow, Cor had managed to maintain that grit in his voice, despite his keening and nearly losing himself into the sheets. That firm, controlling tone sent a jolt through Gladio’s cock.

“Fuck, Marshal, you’re so hot when you give orders.” Gladio withdrew his fingers from Cor’s ass but dipped in to give him one last sloppy lick from the perineum up his loosened hole. Cor only grunted in response.

Not one to keep his superior waiting, Gladio fumbled to shove his sweatpants down, cock finally springing free from its wet confines, the evidence of his earlier orgasm now bunched down around his thighs.

Cock free and Cor’s asshole before him, it took all of Gladio’s willpower to not just dive home then and there. _Lube, lube, where the fuck was the lube?_

Gladio scrambled to pat down his rumpled pants at the foot of the bed, finding his wallet in the back pocket. Gladio tore it free and pulled out a packet of lube, fumbled with the tear tab, then squeezed the packet’s contents over his cock. He smeared the excess around Cor’s asshole, evoking a choked moan from Cor.

“You’re so good, so fucking good, Marshal.”

He was loosened, relaxed to some extent (though there was an undeniable nervous energy in his thighs), and lube was amply applied to both him and Gladio. He was as ready as he was going to get, but as Gladio pressed the tip of his cock into that tiny ring of muscle, hand gripped at his base and on Cor’s hip, it felt like all of his work had been for naught.

Cor resisted him with that same defiance in his voice and mannerisms that had made Gladio’s chest burst with awe and admiration since childhood. He was impossibly tight, clenched up hard, so it was all Gladio could do to mumble nothings to Cor and stroke the tender skin around his hole and perineum with a thumb as he pressed in.

It was a war of attrition, neither side giving much up, but Gladio’s soothing was slowly having an effect on the Marshal and then it all happened suddenly enough; Cor’s asshole swallowed the tip of his cock in one quick go and both were left breathless. Cor was hot, impossibly hot and tight—one hundred times the feel of Gladio just probing him with a finger. Cor was clenched so hard it nearly brought tears to Gladio’s eyes; but it was that delicious mix of pain tinged with pleasure that made Gladio just want to drive himself home.

Gladio had both hands gripped on Cor’s hips as he slowly sank in deeper. Cor tried to maintain some composure, though there was little use for it now. Before long he was reduced to a moaning heap, arms long having given out, cheek pressed into the pillow, his thighs seemingly reduced to putty, held together by a line of tension in his spine. His body was a heap of contradictions, pliable and malleable, helpless against the onslaught of these new sensations, and yet tense, on edge, a live spark shooting through him.

But he took Gladio’s cock and he took it well. Gladio realized he’d been babbling all this time, going on about how good Cor was, how amazing he felt. He felt silly for a moment and stopped, and Cor’s asshole immediately clamped down on him hard, ceasing his progress.

“You just love being encouraged, don’t you Marshal?” Gladio leaned down over his sweaty back and planted a kiss on the back of his neck. He didn’t miss the way Cor’s ears, bright red from exertion and bashfulness, perked up at his voice. “You’re perfect, you’re taking my cock like champ.”

To this, Gladio felt Cor bear down on his cock, and Gladio couldn’t help but pat himself on the back for discovering another piece to picking Cor apart.

“How much more?” Cor twisted beneath him, his voice ragged.

“Just a bit, an inch or so.” Gladio left another kiss in the same spot then sucked gently. “You can take it.”

Cor whined in protest but continued to take all that Gladio could give until there was no more. Cor let out a broken cry, his muscles contracting around Gladio’s cock trying to adjust to the intrusion. Gladio pushed himself back, hands on Cor’s hips, and spread his cheeks to take in the sight of their joining. It was more than he can take. Gladio was overcome with the need to thrust, to rut himself senseless and lose himself in Cor. The heat and viselike tightness, it was almost too much now that he was hilted—he needed the friction, the quick drag, to relieve the tension that had been building in his balls.

“You’re doing so well, Cor. Fuck, you feel amazing,” Gladio cooed, both in part to praise Cor and keep himself from pounding him into the ground. “Can I move?”

“Fuck, Gladio, just—” his words ran together, each jumbling into the next, “—no, wait, I’m not—”

Gladio swore to himself, practically overcome with need. He leaned over Cor, pressing his chest flush against his back, his lips finding the shell of Cor’s right ear. He _shh’d_ softly, murmured sweet soothing nonsense to him and prayed for Cor to give him permission and soon.

Gladio ran his hand delicately down his flank and dipped it forward, fingertips reaching for the tip of his cock. Cor jolted forward when Gladio’s fingers made contact, shooting himself halfway off Gladio’s cock. Both groaned at the sudden movement, and Gladio reaffirmed his hold on Cor’s left hip to keep him from retreating further.

“Fuck, Marshal...”

Gladio stroked Cor’s cock gently as he steadily pressed back into him to his base. Cor’s breath was ragged and his throat sounded hoarse by this point, each senseless groan blending into the next. Gladio began to experimentally thrust, slow and shallow, all the while working Cor’s weeping cock. Chest pressed against Cor’s back, Gladio could feel every shudder, hear every gasp. He could also feel just how tightly Cor clenched down on his cock when the tips of Gladio’s calloused fingers laved over the sensitive head.

It didn’t take long from there.

Teased and toyed with for the better part of twenty minutes, Cor was ready to come. Crying out into the pillow, Cor spilled himself into Gladio’s hand and the sheets. His come was hot and the smell of sex filled Gladio’s nose, giving him a contact high. Cor clamped down on Gladio, almost painfully so, until Cor willed himself to relax slightly.

Gladio slowed his hips to a stop and brought his sodden hand to his lips. He licked a finger clean; Cor’s come tasted like salt and bitters, inoffensive as come went. “Feel good?” Gladio licked his others fingers clean then traced a slow line up Cor’s flank to his shoulder.

Cor shivered at the touch, incapable of responding at the moment, it seemed.

Gladio planted a kiss behind Cor’s ear. “Stay with me now, Marshal, just a bit longer.”

The next sounds Cor made were guttural, choked shouts muffled into the bedding. Gladio, it seemed, had had enough with tenderness and patience, and was now chasing his own release. Hands firmly anchored on Cor’s shoulder and hip, sweaty chest plastered to Cor’s back and upturned shirt, Gladio thrust at full force. His head fell forward, chin resting in the crook of Cor’s neck, and _fuck_ if the combination of Cor’s ass with the sound of his every ragged cry wasn’t like some kind of drug to Gladio,  serving to encourage him to pound away faster and harder.

Gladio’s orgasm crashed over him a few harried thrusts later. He slammed his hips flush with Cor’s ass and held himself in place as he spilled over into him. Gladio was breathing heavily into Cor’s ear and the side of his face, heart hammering into his back. Dimly he realized he was probably crushing Cor under his weight, but he couldn’t find the strength to help support himself any longer.

Cor ground out a terse “fuck,” and tried to elbow Gladio off of him. “Get off of me.” There was enough levity in his voice to let Gladio know he wasn’t _too_ upset about the whole situation.

Gladio kissed the shell of Cor’s ear. “Sure you couldn’t go a second round?”

Somehow Cor managed get a hand squarely on Gladio’s forehead and pushed him back hard. “I’m too old for this. Get the hell off.”

Gladio chuckled, throwing his weight back to push himself up, separating their sticky bodies. Carefully, Gladio pulled his softening cock out from Cor’s ass, heart skipping a beat at the sight of his stretched hole, the shine of Gladio’s come leaking slightly.

Okay, maybe Gladio wasn’t done with him yet.

Gladio tucked both hands around Cor’s hips and, before Cor could do anything about it, flipped him over and onto his back. Cor let out a surprised sound, and again before he could fight it, Gladio pulled his ass up to meet his face, Cor’s back resting on Gladio’s thighs, his legs sprawled out on either side of Gladio.

“Gladio—what in the world—”

One languid lick around Cor’s loosened hole was enough to make the rest of his sentence die on his tongue.

“I made a mess of you, Marshal. Just doing my due diligence here.”

Cor didn’t struggle to escape from Gladio’s tongue after that.

Gladio swirled his tongue around the stretched ring of muscle, then dipped inside, lapped up as much of his own come as he could. His come tasted headier than Cor’s, Gladio thought, muskier. Not the best thing he’d ever tasted by a longshot, but the whole act was so incredibly filthy yet gratifying that he drank up every drop of his come he could find along with the moans Cor was choking out.

Gladio’s eyes drifted forward to Cor’s cock, now soft, and the trail of drying come on his stomach, finally settling on the Marshal’s parted lips, his eyes squeezed shut, brows drawn up. He almost looked like he was mid-prayer to the powers that be—face upturned to the heavens, begging for relief.

He gave Cor one final lick around his hole, then lowered his hips as he backed up, allowing Cor to lay flat on his back. Cor’s chest was rising and falling deeply and he threw an arm over his eyes.

As the post-sex haze of hormones lifted from Gladio’s body and mind, and all that brash, even ignoble, courage left him, he questioned his next move. Would Cor welcome a postcoital cuddle? Or would Cor definitively push him away now, camp out on the couch, safely away from Gladio’s attentions?

Arm still covering his eyes, Cor let out a barking laugh. It startled Gladio, how sharp and loud it was, a series of them following shortly after. Kneeling before his mentor, Gladio straightened his back immediately, balled his hands into fists over his thighs. He had no idea what was going through Cor’s head, but figured best thing to do was to await the incoming punishment.

Only as Cor continued to laugh, Gladio’s eyes roamed over his body—he noticed the fine lines, the hints of softness in his stomach, but he also the laugh lines around his mouth, the almost ethereal look of his silver hair in the dim light. _Fuck it._ No time like the present.

“Hope I didn’t break you there, Marshal,” Gladio said as he sprawled out on his side, scooting himself up to be level with Cor.

Cor finally moved his arm from his eyes, wiped away actual tears. “It all makes sense now.”

“What’s that?”

“That ‘I really like you’ talk.” Cor sucked in a deep breath, a few shuddering laughs still working their way out of his body.

“Well, it’s true,” Gladio said as he inched himself closer, reached across Cor’s chest to bring him into his arms… only for Cor to catch his wrist and fold it back into Gladio’s chest.

“I don’t think so.”

“Really, Marshal? We share an intimate experience and you’re not gonna let me cuddle you after? That’s cold.”

Cor snorted. “Not a cuddler. Never have been.”

Gladio readjusted himself on his side, keeping his hands to himself. “This change everything now?”

Cor’s brow creased in thought. “Yeah. Not all change is bad, though.” Gladio looked a tad too hopeful at that. “But not always,” Cor added quickly, but dropped a hand on top of Gladio’s head and ruffled his hair slightly.

Gladio wouldn’t let that last comment get him down. “I know I said a lot of,” he paused, “ _stuff_ , but I meant it all. You know that, right?”

Cor’s lips drew into a thin line and he rolled over onto his side so his back was facing Gladio. “Yeah,” he grumbled, the tips of his ears still flashing red hot.

Gladio chuckled to himself, settling on his back, and pulled his sweatpants up from his mid-thighs. “It’s customary to give a response to something like that beyond a ‘yeah,’ y’know.”

“Go to sleep, Gladio.”

“C’mon.”

“I don’t dislike you. Is that enough?”

Gladio sighed through his nose. It wasn’t really, but at this rate he might have to just take it. Still, at this point there was nothing to lose by not running his mouth a bit more.

“Thought you were gonna sleep on the couch?”

“You just ate out my ass. I think we’re on close enough terms to share a bed now.”

Gladio couldn’t help but smile at that one.

\---

Gladio’s mind stirred back into consciousness a few hours later to the sound of the shower from the ensuite. He kept his eyes shut as he slowly woke, unwilling to admit a new day had started despite the room still being dark. He was lying on his stomach and slid an arm over to Cor’s side of the bed, finding it empty, though still warm.

Gladio nuzzled his cheek into the pillow. A part of him idly thought of getting up and joining Cor in the shower, of pushing his luck a bit further. And while the thought excited him, his body felt like lead and he knew it would be impossible to get himself up.

Instead he just focused on the sound of the running water, imagined Cor washing his short hair with the same mint shampoo. He wondered if he was sore—probably a little—and hoped the hot water brought some comfort.

Gladio drifted off at some point, as the next thing he knew he could feel that Cor was mere inches away, standing by his side of the bed, the sound of the shower gone. Gladio kept his eyes closed, but knew that Cor knew he was awake. Gladio stayed perfectly still, holding his breath, awaiting Cor’s next move.

Without any further preamble, Cor dipped forward and left a kiss on Gladio’s forehead. Everything about it was characteristic of the Marshal, from the roughness of his lips to the kiss being the perfect length of time, though erring on the brief side for Gladio. But still, it was enough to make Gladio melt under it, and he felt as if he were sinking deeper into the mattress, simultaneously wanting to succumb fully to the mark of affection and longing to gather Cor in his arms and drag him down into his chest.

It was over all too soon.

Cor pulled back and straightened. “Lock up for me?”

Gladio nodded sleepily, eyes still closed.

“I’ll write, or call. Okay?”

Gladio nodded again.

And that was it.

Gladio heard Cor’s footsteps retreat as he left the bedroom. A minute later he heard the door to the apartment open and shut, and he was gone.

Slowly, Gladio opened his eyes, forced to confront the fact that their evening had ended. Gladio grunted as he pushed himself up slowly and twisted around so he was sitting upright. He felt like shit, though a big part of it was the hangover-induced headache. He took a mental inventory of the tidying up he’d need to do—wash the sheets, his borrowed clothes _definitely_ —but then flopped himself back down onto the bed and pressed his face into Cor’s pillow. It still smelled of him and that shampoo, though now Gladio smelled like that too, he supposed. Gladio hummed into the pillow. After twenty years of waiting for this, he knew that the chores could stand to be put off for a bit longer.


End file.
